May Day
by leradny
Summary: As always, Innes overthinks what should be a beautiful and effortless expression of love. Vanessa doesn’t help much. Rated T for occasional mature humor and use of alcohol.


_Note:_ So I randomly compared Forde and Innes' stats one day and realized that same con = loads of fun with disguises and junk. Especially considering their wildly separate personalities, and common romantic support with Vanessa. The resulting concept took a full month of incoherent swearing at my notebook, and not even because I had to make up a holiday or traditional Frelian clothing! (Which I didn't do. Google Beltane. Also google "great kilt", for a visualization aid.) The time-eater was L'Arachel and her love of using enough flowery words to send Holland crying up to its room.

I apologize to people who don't like JoshuaNatasha, NeimiColm, SethEirika, FranzAmelia, L'ArachelEphraim, SyreneGilliam, and/or LuteKyle.

**-**

**May Day  
**

Carbrey is playing with some leafy branches in the hall outside their quarters, throwing some of them like spears or slashing a makeshift sword at his invisible opponent. Other than wondering whether her son has gotten lonely (dubious, as he disliked crowds when he was a baby) and where exactly he'd gotten those when he hadn't left Castle Frelia today, Vanessa smiles and rests her hand on his shoulder. "Carbrey."

"Yes, Momma?"

"I'm going to be out of the castle, for work." Of course he knew that could mean anywhere from a few hours to a week. Even so, it pains Vanessa to leave her son all alone in this big stone castle. In normal circumstances her sister or mother would have been happy to keep an eye on him, but both were busy with the royal tasks set to them, or rotating the job of looking after the neighbors' children while preparing for Beltane. "Father Moulder will check up on you as best he can, but remember he's getting on in years—don't get into any mischief while I'm gone."

"All right, Momma. I promise I won't." He sounds crestfallen in the way many quieter children do; trying to hide it under stiff politeness is peculiar to Carbrey, though. Vanessa hopes this isn't a sign that he will grow up lean and sharp—she'd nearly had a heart attack when his hair, green like hers, developed a distinct gray sheen in sunlight.

She shakes off the anxiety in order to kneel and hold her arms out. "All right—give me a hug, darling." He does, and to his credit does not let go until she does. "There! I promise I'll be back as soon as possible." Vanessa turns on a heel and breaks one of the branches, prompting the addition: "Remember to clean this up once you're done. _Ack!_" Prince Innes had been standing behind her. Though there isn't anyone to see, she flushes. "I apologize, Sir! I… hadn't seen you."

"Well, I won't hold you, Vanessa." He nods, she salutes, and they move to go past each other (although Vanessa's pace is more hurried than usual). "The sooner you leave, after all, the sooner you may return to your boy."

"Thank you, sir."

"What have we here?" Innes' voice is almost enough to make her turn round—his was always quiet, but it seems… softer than usual. She doesn't dare look when Carbrey replies, sounding like a seven-year-old echo of the prince. If he shows any aptitude for the bow, she _will_ have a heart attack.

"I was just playing, Your Highness," Carbrey mumbles, intimidated by the prince who is head, shoulders, and a good part of his torso taller than him.

"At what?" The famous eyes glance around, taking in everything from the tapestries on the stone walls to the sticks scattered under Carbrey's feet. "I see none of your fellows around here."

"Well, they aren't here, sir. They're helping their parents get ready for Beltane."

"And the answer to my question?"

It's steely, but sounds nice enough—just pointing something out—so Carbrey doesn't feel cowed like when his mom is in one of her no-nonsense moods. Then again, he and his friends hadn't been trying to make a fire in the hall and jump over it when Innes showed up… "I was pretending to be a knight, sir."

"Hmm." Innes picks up a few branches and observes them closely. "Rowan, birch, hazel…" After looking at the ones on the ground, he finishes, "No willow, though. I'd be surprised if there was. Did you get these from the Beltane stockpiles?"

"No, sir. The maids were decorating the windows and they let me have them, as long as I gave everything back."

"Good lad." Carbrey feels the way his mother looks after a compliment—all warm and shiny inside. When the prince stoops to pick up some of the branches, it looks a bit odd. "Tell you what, Carbrey."

"Yes, sir?"

"Once we're done with this, I will take you to the courtyard and show you how a knight would act in battle." Innes starts walking in his most 'Don't bother me as I am extremely busy' manner to the main hallway where the maids are still decorating, and hands them the branches. Everyone looks at them oddly for a minute, but Carbrey has to jog to keep up with the prince.

"B-but sir," he stammers, feeling torn between following his mother and following the orders of the Prince his mother follows to the letter. "My mother said I wasn't to learn to fight until I was twelve, sir. And I'm only seven."

"Well, what your mother doesn't know won't hurt her."

"But… aren't you busy, sir?"

"No. Though, I like to be." Even though Innes is actually going to the courtyard right now, he _always_ looks like he has to be somewhere else, fast, and anyone who gets in his way will get shot up or glared to death or something. His mother herself, one of the inner circle knights of Frelia, wouldn't bother him at all unless it was important, and in one of his black moods people would clear the halls for fifty feet. "My father the king places great value on those who do not idle about, and I refuse to disappoint him."

"Um…" That makes a lot of sense, except Carbrey remembers Princess Tana and has to ask. "What about Princess Tana, sir? She's a pegasus knight, but besides that I don't think I've seen her anywhere else besides the banquets and parties." She always wore the fanciest clothes, too. Innes wore something close to what he was wearing now, long coats--made by the finest tailor in Frelia, of course, but nothing like his sister who never wore the same outfit twice.

"Oh?" Innes promptly scares Carbrey out of his wits when he frowns. "So, who do you think _plans_ them?"

-

_Some Time Later_

"Esme?" Joshua asks, from near the back of the group. "Daddy is losing all feeling in his arm, so you're going to have to let up a little. Please."

The sight of happy couples decorated with flower garlands strolling through the streets, with branches and ribbons on every window is a familiar sight to everyone—except for the children, who are either too young to remember much or live in one of the far eastern countries (or both). Natasha shakes her head in exasperation and at the same time takes their daughter with her free hand. In contrast their son Alexei is walking by himself, with a thoughtful expression at his new surroundings.

Ephraim, one of the first to receive garlands from his sister and Tana, slows his pace. "What?" he asks, with too much astonishment for it to be genuine. "Is my little god-daughter afraid of something, now?" She shakes her head, reddish-gold pigtails flopping timidly, yet continues to hold onto Natasha. "And here I thought you were made of stronger stuff, Esme."

"Be _nice,_ Ephraim!" Eirika calls, as a precaution to Ephraim's usual teasing. She is giving the red flower garlands to one person and then the next with a methodical progression, having already given smaller ones to half of the children. She waits for Tana, who is still in the center of the group, and meanwhile requests Gerik to bow his head.

"Thanksh, doll." Somehow the general of all Jehanna's forces is already sloshed, despite it being very early in the day. He allows the much shorter princess to slip a wreath around his neck with the malleability of a day-old lamb. "Y'should lighten up, already, though. It's _Beltane!_ Haven't you ever joined in the festivities proper or what?"

"There is an official celebration in Renais every year," Eirika begins, at which all the grown men in the group shake their head—save Ephraim, who looks about to reply before clearing his throat and looking somewhere else; Seth, who would never interrupt his royal spouse to save his life; and Innes, who is uncharacteristically late. "_What?_"

"Forget _that,_ milady." Forde says in the most helpful, explanatory tone possible. If the children had not been in full view, Seth surely would have done something about his lazy underling. "Any Beltane celebration worth its salt is in Frelia. And where are we now? Frelia! So you can now experience for yourself, milady, how _our_ Beltane pales in comparison to this."

Eirika follows Forde's expansive arm gesture with a critical gaze, and ticks off the things that she sees. "Flowers, ribbons, happy couples… Forgive me, Forde, but this looks _exactly _like 'our' Beltane."

"I could—"

"Incoming!" a familiar woman's voice shouts. Everyone looks up to see Vanessa's pegasus gliding in fast, carrying Innes and a smaller green-haired figure as well as the knight herself. "Frelians, I implore you to make way for your Prince!" As a street-wide circle is cleared, they land with little more than a clatter of horseshoes on the cobblestones, a sound which is easily drowned out in the applause. Innes lurches off, somewhat paler than usual due to the higher speed, but regains composure once he reaches the group.

"Ahem. I apologize for being this late, as it is unbefitting a prince of my stature. However—" He shoots a glare at Tana, who ducks behind Eirika and mutters something about how she _knew_ she'd forgotten something. "_Someone_ decided she should go on to Sulskery without telling me of the change in plans."

"You had a backup plan anyway," Tana mumbles.

"And _what_ would have happened if Vanessa's son hadn't wandered away and delayed her take-off?"

"Oh, is _that_ him?" Tethys asks, in an attempt to stop the argument. Surprised, the Frelian royalty directs their attention to her as she approaches the green-haired lad. "No, it can't be! You're _surely_ too old to be Carbrey."

"But it is!" Vanessa places a hand on her son's shoulder and nudges him forward, with a proud smile. "You've all met Carbrey before, though that was when he couldn't speak. Say hello, dear."

"Hello, everyone," he responds politely, standing up straight while he does. "It's very nice to see you all again."

There is a moment of silence during which all the adults tilt their heads, raise an eyebrow, or just look puzzled. Seeming a touch nervous, Vanessa shoos Carbrey to the back with the other children before asking her friends, "_What?_"

"Ehh, thought we heard something odd in the background," Gerik mumbles. "Nothing to worry about—that's a good boy you got there! I got to say, you make fine-quality children, Vanessa." She takes Gerik at his inebriated word and smiles, while everyone else just holds in their laughter.

Now that all of the children are here, they cluster in twos and threes with strict permission not to wander off or fall too far back. Even Carbrey, who is a very quiet child, starts pretending at a skirmish with Lute and Kyle's son Simon. The adults, meanwhile, are bemused at the way the civilians are treating them—only Innes is subject to bows and curtsies, and while the other royals are acknowledged they are treated with the same casual respect everyone else gets.

"This is how it is in Renais, too, Forde," Eirika comments, after a passing Frelian cleric gives them more garlands—white instead of red, this time. "Even Father never got more than a bow."

"What are you talking about?" Innes asks.

"Forde was just comparing the Beltane celebrations between our countries," Ephraim replies. He takes off one of his garlands, allowing his pointed chin to be seen, and after a moment offers it to L'Arachel—who currently has just the two from Tana and Eirika. "Will you accept this token from me, L'Arachel?"

"The nerve!" As always, the princess of Rausten draws attention as easily as she breathes. "I am most affronted at such _indecency!_ Why, I feel that I _must_ take it now, in order to spare some less… spiritually resilient woman your barbarous affections!" She places it around her neck, head high.

"So what's this about the celebrations?" Innes reminds everyone, after they're finished wondering how Ephraim could have fallen for such a mad woman. "Surely I, as Crown Prince of Frelia, would be helpful in settling this debate, or at least elaborating on Frelian specifics."

"This ain't a _battle,_ Boss," Gerik points out. "Y'don't have to… to…" He trails off. When the royalty looks back at him, it appears he has forgotten he was saying anything at all.

-  
Innes (now firmly in place as the tour guide) takes them to a food booth where their group takes up nearly all of the chairs, and pays for everyone's serving of a flat, dark, circular bread. Eirika lays a napkin and then the plate over her lap, slices a wedge out as if it were a pie, and remarks after one careful bite, "Well, Forde, I admit—we do have sweetbreads and the like in Renais during Beltane, but this is quite different. What are they again?"

"Scones!" Tana swallows before she speaks since she is eating as quickly as decorum will allow her to. "Well, Frelian scones."

"The colloquial term is bannocks," Innes says after his sister is finished speaking, then shrugs. "Either way, everyone knows what you're talking about."

"They are _wonderful!_" L'Arachel exclaims. She holds her plate up rather than setting it on her lap, a rather fussy habit which only Natasha follows—and with much less exaggerated daintiness. "The robust interplay of woodsy flavors, barely restrained by human technique, is such a contrast to the delicate refreshment of the flavored water. Sir Forde, I do implore you to dine in a civilized manner so I do not vomit up this glorious meal."

Forde is holding up the circular pastry and taking large bites directly out of it, rather than slicing it like everyone else. He reluctantly puts it back on the plate, wipes his mouth with a handkerchief, and picks up his untouched knife. "I'm terrifically sorry, Princess L'Arachel. _Please_, find it in your pure and holy heart to forgive my abominable actions."

Every word drips with sarcasm (especially the long ones) which the princess does not seem to hear. Instead she gives a nod of approval. "Very well. I forgive and thank you, Sir Forde, seeing as your apology was so eloquently delivered."

-  
With their quiet, thoughtful natures, Carbrey and Joshua's son Alexei are getting along quite well. They sit next to each other and eat their bannocks with the same dignity expressed by the adults. Finally, Alex breaks the silence by pointing to his twin sister. "I'm Alex. That's my twin over there, Esme." Both have a similar shade of reddish-gold hair, but Esme's is already tousled despite its pigtails while Alex's is as neat as it was when his mother combed it that morning.

"I'm Carbrey." They watch as Esme chases after Simon, then Sir Forde when he enters the fray with as much abandon as if he was their age. Sir Franz looks humiliated as Dame Amelia elbows him with a smirk. "I don't have any brothers or sisters."

"Esme likes swordfighting. I have healing magic, anyway, so I don't like it. Does your mom teach you things?"

Colm and Neimi's daughter, Jenna, is prodded into joining in as well. Carbrey shakes his head. "She taught me etiquette when I was younger, but she isn't teaching me to fight until I'm twelve."

"Why?"

"I don't know. When did you start learning how to fight?"

"When I was old enough to walk."

Despite looking like her mother with blue hair, Jenna does not take much after Neimi. When she is tagged a bit roughly by Esme, Jenna tags back even harder over Esme's indignant screech, "No tag-backs!" This escalates into a shoving match that Forde is quick to stifle by grabbing Jenna, while Natasha takes her daughter in a firm grip. When the dust settles, both girls alternate between sulking and glaring at each other, instead of bursting into tears.

"Anyway, who's your dad?" Alex looks around as if he may have missed someone, which is likely considering the size of their group.

"Whenever I ask my mom who he is, she says it doesn't matter since I'm a child of the May." Carbrey delivers this with a shrug. "She also gets really nervous and says something about running into 'some completely random stranger at Beltane.' And she won't tell me what Beltane has to do with me even though my birthday is right at Midwinter." He looks around, but more as if he is wary that someone may be listening. "Can you keep a secret, Alex?"

A dignified nod is the young prince's only reply.

"Prince Innes is teaching me to fight."

Alex looks at the stern prince with faded brown hair and observes, "He doesn't seem very nice like King Ephraim or Princess Tana. Or my dad."

"He is, sort of. Whenever he talks to me, he isn't mean like everyone says he is—just stiff."

"Did he teach you how to talk, too?"

"No, I said my mom was the one who taught me that."

"Well, you sound like Prince Innes when you talk."

"Really? I never noticed."

Joshua and Colm approach their respective daughters with startling gravity. "Ismaire," Joshua says, in his most warning tone. "_What_ did we say about shoving people because they shoved you first?"

"Oh!" Carbrey exclaims. "I forgot—what's it like living in a desert?"

-  
"It looks like everyone's going home," Eirika says. As the sunlight begins to fade, many people start to file off the streets until the city looks almost deserted. She has a tired, yet somewhat triumphant expression on her face which Forde is quick to deter. "Isn't it too early for that? We haven't been to the bonfire yet."

"Au contraire, milady. This is when the—"

"_Excuse_ me, Sir Forde." Innes steps between them, affronted. "Not only is that a _despicable_ show of forwardness towards your own queen, but you forget this is _my_ country. _I_ will be the one to inform visitors—such as _you—_of the events." Forde grumbles, but Seth looks all too eager to have him step away. "Anyway, no one is leaving for home, Eirika. Those eligible and willing to do so are simply changing clothes. In fact, Tana and I will have to do so shortly."

"What _for?_" The question is echoed by L'Arachel, who is just as intrigued.

"Ooh!" Tana jumps with excitement. "We dress up as the Lord of the Hunt and the May Queen, to preside over the Midsummer Bonfire!"

"Exactly." Innes looks a bit discouraged as he adds, "It is a very impressive costume, though I admit it is not horribly comfortable."

"It's only because of the giant stag mask," Tana tells them.

"For comfort, or impressiveness?" Eirika asks.

"Both."

Upon retrieving their clothes from Achaeus, who was stabled along with Syrene and Vanessa's mounts near the inn where they all met up, a local woman is only too happy to lend them the use of her house while she leaves with her family for the Midsummer Bonfire. Tana ducks in with Eirika and Syrene, and after only a few minutes emerges in a filmy red dress with flowers woven into her hair and a long white shawl pinned over her shoulders.

Innes waits until she is finished with minor adjustments before saying, in a tone as serious as they'd ever heard him use, "Tana. You _did_ think to bring a spare for me, at least."

"Yes, yes, of course!" She is too quick to reply. "I even packed them both separate from the mask. Won't you forget about that already, Innes? It was three years ago!"

"What? _What?_" Joshua steps in.

For the first time in their history of knowing the Frelian prince, Innes is too embarrassed to speak. He attempts to hide it with a scowl first, then sinks his forehead into the palm of one hand. Tana sighs. Syrene is nice enough to answer for the both of them. "It was my lady's first time carrying the costumes—she _insisted_—and while traveling part of Prince Innes' costume caught on the mask and tore irreparably. We hadn't thought to bring a spare then, so milord had to go throughout the festivities without a shirt."

"Now _please,_" Innes nearly has to shout over howls of laughter, "Let us never speak of this again."

"By the way, my brother will need assistance with the mask from his dearest male friends."

"_**TANA!**_" Innes yells as he is swept into the house by all of 'his dearest male friends.'

-  
Everyone waits in silence for the first five minutes before falling to conversation amongst themselves—or, in the case of the children, clustering up in twos and threes again to play. Finally, Innes' group files out of the house, with Joshua and Ephraim grinning as they steer the rather visibly-challenged prince between them. Seth, who had not joined them, gives a cursory head count and then pauses. "Where's Forde?"

"He…" As Ephraim speaks, Joshua rubs the back of his neck in a casual manner. This causes Natasha to raise an eyebrow at what she has learned is his trademark tell, and her gaze shifts discreetly to the door hanging ajar. "He was delayed."

"Oh, for cripes' sake!" Gerik slurs. "He's takin' a piss." Various expressions of womanly disgust take a moment to sink into the still-beer-soaked head of the mercenary leader. He adds, too late (though it probably wouldn't have made much difference if it were on time), "Beggin' your ladyships' pardon."

"Let's go on ahead, then," Tana decides. "He'll catch up soon. Are you still mad at me, Innes?" The prince's arms cross as he looks away, causing Ephraim to think fast in order to dodge the helmet. Natasha observes her husband's face carefully and then shrugs as everyone follows Tana's lead. Though she offers to guide her brother as she has done for the past few years, Joshua and Ephraim politely refuse.

"Gee, Ephraim. A lesser man might never live this down, don't you think?"

"Be _nice!_" Eirika's voice floats down from the front just before Ephraim can speak. Joshua is unnerved; he hadn't spoken loud enough for his voice to carry and the noise level is growing as they approach the Midsummer Bonfire.

"How did she _know?_"

"You have twins of your own, don't you?" Ephraim counters.

"Yeah, but they're kids. They're supposed to say weird things. Your sister's a nice _logical_ girl—what else can she do? What else can _you_ do?"

"I don't know, and I'm _not_ inclined to find out…"

With the large group well down the road, no one finds it odd to see a young man emerge from the deserted house wearing the white great-kilt particular to the Beltane festivities—not even with the hood drawn low over his face, and his strangely well-kept red boots. Without a shirt underneath it, his athletic physique draws most of the attention.

-

_Several minutes earlier…_

Throughout the teasing, laughter, and general ruckus the others are causing at his expense, Innes remains silent. This is to be expected, and while he changes clothes the conversation runs out of steam and changes to other subjects altogether. Upon hearing the shift Innes clears his throat stiffly and attracts everyone's attention once more.

"As loath as I am to say this to all of you, I must admit… that…" A confused silence replaces all the grins as Innes struggles, "I need… your… help."

"Yeah, Tana mentioned that when—"

"It's not about _that!_" The Frelian prince interrupts Joshua with something that may have resembled a bellow in a man less proud. "No! This is for something _much_ more important."

Everyone exchanges glances that hold distaste and exasperation. Gerik sighs, somewhat less roaring drunk than before. "What'd I tell you, Boss? This ain't a battle, it's _Beltane._"

"I am well aware of that. Sir Forde." Innes tosses his spare great-kilt, along with the shirt that they just now realize he has forgone wearing, to the greatly confused paladin who catches it more from reflex out of anything. "I command you to put on this outfit, and do be prompt for once in your life. We have already wasted too much time."

"Um." Forde holds it gingerly. "I'm sure this is very important, Your Highness—but suppose it doesn't _fit_ me?"

"It will, more or less," is Innes' retort. "In case you haven't noticed, Sir Forde, we are quite similar in height and build."

A second, more thorough look reveals that this observation is true. Joshua retreats a good three yards back from the prince, hands up in protest. "Stop right there, Innes—what in the name of Magvel are you _planning?_"

"I am _planning_ to dress Sir Forde in my ceremonial clothes so that he may preside over the Midsummer Bonfire in my place."

Everyone's jaw drops, but Forde is the most astonished.

"You… you're inhuman!" The paladin throws the outfit behind him, righteously indignant, and stomps over to face Innes directly. "I've always known you hated fun, joy, and merriment of all sorts, but this is a new low. I can't believe you're _using_ me in this manner! Sacrificing _my_ enjoyment along with yours, when I'm not even _Frelian_, in a cold-blooded, selfish ploy to dodge _Beltane_—the best holiday of the _year!_"

Being the same height as Forde and made of much less flappable stuff, Innes takes the tirade without so much as a blink. "I am not _dodging_ Beltane."

The calm statement, in the exact tone Innes would use yet still something no one in their wildest dreams would hear the prince say in this situation, is enough to dissipate Forde's anger entirely. "What?"

Ephraim steps up. "With all due respect, Innes, that would mean… you were doing the _opposite._"

"Yes."

"Meaning, you are abdicating your rather defunct position as Lord of the Hunt to participate in Beltane as a regular person would."

"That is what I am doing, Ephraim."

"What's more, you are going to do so anonymously, since not only does everyone in Frelia know your face but a good portion of our friends would recognize you from a distance."

"I see you have exercised your intellect well since we last met. What else do you deduce?"

"…I believe you have done this before, Innes."

"Stop!" Gerik screams. "No more! I must've fallen into an ale vat had to _drink_ my way out for this sort of crazy!"

"Calm yourself, Gerik," Innes commands him. "You forget everyone else is waiting outside."

"So, if this were true, Innes," Ephraim continues with the gentleness one would usually reserve for speaking in front of a very ill child, "May I ask who it is you're doing this for?"

The prince of Frelia sighs, and the silence that follows for several long moments is unbroken until Joshua snaps his fingers. "_Carbrey._"

"Yes, Carbrey is of the age where his mother would be hard-pressed to help him through the fire alone."

Everyone groans at the careful phrasing. "Give it _up,_ Boss," Gerik tells him, good humor restored. "Although I got to ask if Vanessa knows..."

"Of course she _knows,_" Innes snaps. "Pairing up at the fire isn't _really_ anonymous and random unless you're that sort of person, or naïve, or foreign, or just _desperate_. Now Sir Forde—" The paladin has blanched, jaw agape. "Sir Forde! Put on that costume, _now._ If it's any consolation, no one will expect you to say or do much of anything, and you're supposed to change out of the helmet to rest every few hours or so. The tent by the bonfire has food, drink, and a bed—"

"_Really?_" Forde has the great-kilt on and is struggling with the helmet in a few minutes. "Why didn't you _say_ so?!"

Innes sighs. "You're supposed to put the hood on first. Here." He assists with the helmet while everyone watches in amazement, then pulls his own hood over his face. "I'll have to linger for a while. Remember it's _Forde_ who's hanging back, not me, and also make sure that one of you helps him with the helmet in the tent instead of Tana—"

"I think _I'm_ pretty well-versed in keeping identities secret," Joshua says. "We're fine, Innes."

"Pride goeth before destruction, and a haughty spirit before the fall. I would prefer to take _no_ chances."

-

_Back to the present…_

"Lute!" Joshua hisses. She has procured a book from within her voluminous robes, and does not seem to notice. "_Lute!_"

Kyle nudges her shoulder. "Dear, I think Joshua needs your help."

"Ah. I had assumed the spirits were attempting to distract me from stumbling upon their secrets of arcane magics." She closes the book and ties a black handkerchief around it with a white cord. "I apologize. What is your query?"

"Lute, is there some way you can make the bonfire less… fiery?"

Lute digests the question, then asks, "I assume Natasha refuses to participate in the native ritual with you."

"Yes. She also refuses to let me go with the twins."

"Hmm." The mage stares at the raging fire for a moment, then shakes her head. "With a regular bonfire, I would be able to reduce its flames to something more manageable at once, but this is made with copious amounts of the sacred woods and has centuries of tradition behind it. If you are willing to wait several weeks while I research and experiment—"

"No, no… Thanks, anyway." He returns to his wife and children with a sigh. "Natasha, I just asked Lute if she could do anything to make it easier for us. Lute! See the lengths to which I go for you?"

"You may have convinced me to renounce my vows, move to Jehanna and marry you, but you can_not_ convince me to jump through a _fire_, or allow our _children_ to do so under the assurance that it is 'really, really fun.'"

"It's not actually _jumping_ through the fire!" Joshua points out. "It's banked in the middle and we run over the coals—"

"No."

The king of Jehanna crosses his arms and grumbles something, deep in one of his rare unhappy moods. Seth, who with Eirika had the privilege of being one of the first couples to pass through the bonfire, gives him a pat on the back while everyone else just smiles. As time goes by every one of their friends, wedded or not, goes through the bonfire and returns.

Vanessa, who is last, takes Carbrey and approaches the fire, though she hesitates for a moment and bends to say something to her son first. Syrene clucks in sympathy and stands up, brushing off her dress. "Just as I thought. He's too big for her to help over the coals, and not fast enough to go through them on his own. Gilliam, I'm going to help her."

"Hold, Dame Syrene!" L'Arachel declares. "It seems one of the hooded, shirtless young men from that crowd across the fire is going to your sister's aid." They watch as said young man is overtaken by a somewhat taller figure with a more athletic physique and red boots. L'Arachel squints at the latter. "Why… I do believe she _knows_ him!"

They each take one of Carbrey's hands, Vanessa seeming relieved and happy in a peculiarly familiar way, while the troubadour looks around.

"Say," Joshua asks, with unusual spite. "Has anyone seen _Forde_ at all tonight?"

There is a brief silence. Ephraim and Gerik deliver pointed glances to the swordmaster as Franz attempts to rationalize, "He used to help me through the Midsummer Bonfire when I was younger, and lots of other kids besides. He stopped after I got old enough, and also when one girl mistook him for my father."

"Someone talking about my wondrous chivalry?" Everyone screams as Forde, dressed in his regular clothes, crops up behind Franz and Amelia.

"You _did_ give me a fright, Sir Forde!" L'Arachel admonishes. "Where have you been?"

"Helping Innes with that blasted helmet of his!" Forde's large grin is met with dagger-encrusted glares from Gerik, Joshua, and Ephraim while Tana narrows her eyes in suspicion (a rare emotion on the happy princess, and one that does not suit her entirely).

"I would think you'd be joining in on the festivities."

"Well, I have outgrown such silly superstitions," the knight says primly. "Not to mention I helped myself to some of that delicious food in his tent. And the wine. Also I may have fallen asleep due to said wine—"

"Oh, go back and stuff your face, then!" Tana says. She sighs after Forde ambles back to the tent, out of earshot. "Well, Innes doesn't eat much and the food is replenished while he's out here, anyway. I was frightened for a minute, though!"

"So were we all, milady Tana," Syrene tells her. "I don't know where he would have gotten the great-kilt, anyway. No offense meant, Franz, but Forde is—" Franz shrugs. Vanessa reappears on the other side of the fire, glowing, with her two companions in tow. "All right, then. I'll have to ask Vanessa who the lucky guy is. She hasn't said a word to _me._"

"He appears to be a dashing, courtly young man with the ardent spirit only knights of legend possess!" From L'Arachel, of course. Joshua snorts, which is unsurprising given his mood, and recieves more glares. "Farmer, soldier, merchant, or unusually well-built poet, I daresay he will be handsome and true towards Dame Vanessa and her son."

Gilliam replies to the Rausten princess in his usual manner. "There's many who seem handsome in the light of the fires and turn out to be regular lads in the morning—if they're still there, that is." Syrene gives her husband a smack on the shoulder and a warning look, as much as telling him to let Vanessa have a bold knight in shining armor for now. As the younger pegasus rider draws near, she deposits Carbrey with the other children and discreetly leaves. Though she keeps her head down, she does not have the benefit of a concealing hood and everyone sees that her face is quite flushed.

"Er, I... I have to go," Ephraim says, as if remembering something just at that moment. "Innes hasn't come out yet, and… well, somehow I don't think he's getting any help from Forde."


End file.
